The First Time
by cre8ive.ovadose
Summary: Sebastian's account of his first suicide attempt. Please heed warnings. Part of my Second Chance verse.


Title: The First Time

Rating: M

Characters: Sebastian Smythe, OFC

Summary: Sebastian's account of his first suicide attempt. Please heed warnings. Part of my Second Chance verse.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of self-harm, talk of suicide, description of suicide, talk of homophobia

Disclaimer: I don't own Sebastian Smythe, I wasn't quick enough to come up with the idea of him.

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**THE FIRST TIME**

I moved through the days as if they were lessons in humility, penance for the fucked up things I'd done with Jesse. There were no more cute texts waiting for me on my phone, but no worrying texts either. I would have been happy to receive both if they meant Jesse was alive. I knew hoping was futile but it was the only thing I had left. Jesse had been the only thing I had left.

The cuts in my arms were raw and deep but nothing felt the same. Nothing was getting through to me anymore. I wandered the halls at school like a ghost, everyone always avoiding me in case they became infected with my homosexuality. I sat in the back of my classes, looking at the teacher but never paying attention. My notebooks stayed empty except for the occasional message to Jesse. "I wish you were here."

The counsellor had tried to talk to me, to get me to open up, but I didn't want to talk about Jesse. I wanted to remember him the way he was, not as the gay kid who killed himself. I'd given noncommittal or monosyllabic answers, waiting for the counsellor to finally give up and let me go before I locked myself in a stall in the bathrooms and cut myself with a pair of scissors. It wasn't the same as a blade but it was enough to get me through the rest of the day.

My thoughts were growing darker, I knew they were. Suicide was an option now; Jesse had made it an option. I fantasised about it during class, only snapping out of it when I thought of how much better off I could be. It made me feel sick to think I was capable of believing that. But when I took a look around at my classmates, I felt it was true. The only thing stopping me was knowing that if I died, they would be the ones to get all the attention – it affected them so much, it changed everyone's perception of the world, "We miss him so much, he was such a wonderful person, I wish we'd seen he was hurting so much and done something to help him."

Take your fake words and stick 'em where the sun don't shine.

It took me two weeks to finally come to a decision. The thoughts had milled about my brain for long enough. I knew I'd have the house to myself for a few hours one afternoon when my parents were working and my sister was at band practice. If I got home quickly I'd have enough time to … do what I needed to do.

I sat in the bathroom with a blade in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. I didn't know how many it would take – cuts or pills. I figured two or three pills between each cut. I planned for long and deep but I knew they'd get shallower as I got weaker. More pills the more cuts then.

The first one burned with a fierce intensity and the blood was hot across my skin before it fell to the tiles beneath me. I unscrewed the cap of the pill bottle, tapping three straight into my mouth and swallowing them dry. It felt horrible but I didn't let it phase me, I had to do this, I had to get back to Jesse.

More cuts, more blood, more pills. It still didn't feel like anything. I felt numb and when I finally struck pain, it was with a spurt of bright red blood and the sickening knowledge I'd gone too far. I dropped the blade and clamped my hand over the new wound but the blood was running too fast. I felt my breathing quicken and my mind raced as I tried to come to a solution. When my eyes fell on the bottle of pills beside me, I knew there was only one way out.

I was beginning to feel lethargic and breathing felt like it was taking all of my effort. I went to swallow the remaining contents of the bottle but when I heard my sister call out and slam the front door, I froze in horror. Her feet were heavy on the stairs and before I knew it, she was standing in front of the open bathroom door. She went white, her eyes wide and I shook my head sadly.

"I'm so fucking sorry," I whispered before I downed the pills. I heard her scream but the only thing I felt was the sharp pain as my body gave up and my head cracked against the floor.

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**A/N: I wrote this a while ago and hadn't realised I hadn't posted it. I'm working on something else as well, not sure how long it'll be until I get it onto here. I hope you enjoyed reading this, despite the sheer lack of enjoyable things in this little piece of fic. Have a wonderful day wherever you are in the world and take care –Frankie xoxo**


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